Because the Dublin Magistrates’ Courts did not sit on Saturdays, the police cells were invariably filled to capacity. And with the growing trend for businesses to give employees a half-day off on Saturday afternoon, it was often impossible to advance police inquiries after noontime. Many commercial offices closed for the afternoon. Schools closed at noon, releasing their charges to engage in whatever mischief might present itself. Invariably, the latter part of the day was forfeit.

Swallow’s strategy to offset Saturday’s adversities was to start the day earlier. The morning crime conference at Exchange Court, the headquarters of G-Division at Dublin Castle, was ordinarily timed for nine o’clock. The night’s crime tallies would be set out and the day’s tasks allocated. But on Saturdays he brought it forward to half past eight. That way he could ensure that all available detectives were at their posts or out on their inquiries for the full duration of the morning.

Since his promotion to detective inspector, Swallow had sharpened up procedures at Exchange Court. His predecessor, Maurice (‘Duck’) Boyle, since elevated to superintendent and posted to take charge of the E-district, headquartered in leafy Rathmines, had been notoriously lazy and undemanding. Swallow, on the other hand, insisted on punctuality and a strict adherence to procedure. Report-writing had to be accurate, clear and up-to-date. Cash drawn for informants had to be accounted for in full and not frittered away on unnamed and often fictitious informants in public houses. There was grumbling from some, but the greater number among the G-men, as the detectives short-handed their designation, supported his approach.

The bedroom on the top floor above M & M Grant’s public house on Thomas Street, in the old city quarter known as the Liberties, was cold when he woke. He looked past Maria’s sleeping form beside him to the window and saw that the glass was fern-patterned with the first frost of winter. He rose, then washed and shaved quietly across the corridor in the room which, for the sake of decorum, was always referred to as ‘Mr Swallow’s room’. As far as outward appearances were concerned, the young, widowed Mrs Walsh and the detective inspector were simply landlady and tenant. Maria’s servants knew differently, of course, as did many of the patrons of M & M Grant’s, Maria’s public house below. So too did most of Swallow’s senior colleagues in G-Division, even though it was against police regulations to board on licensed premises, much less to share a bed with the licensee.